


Prominent Bones

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Kink, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, set in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: Dean is in love with Sam's bones.Fill for the masquerade event on LJprompt: Dean has a secret kink, Sam discovers and flaunt it.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 146
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020





	Prominent Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [laughablelament](https://laughablelament.tumblr.com) for the beta <3  
> 

When it comes to Sam, Dean loves everything. He adores Sam's smiles the most, if he's feeling sappy enough he'd say they give him stomach butterflies. Sam's dimples, the way his mouth stretches and his teeth appear, better yet if he lets out a breath of a laugh. Sam's hair is another favourite thing of his, although he won't admit to it under torture. The way it flows in the breeze, or how it curls under Sam's ears. How it sticks to Sam's neck and the side of his face after a shower, how it halos his head when he's sleeping. That particular way Sam's fingers move when he tucks a lock behind his ear, or how sometimes he blows at his bangs when they get in his eyes.

Dean also loves Sam's height, it's a testament that he didn't fuck up, that he's fed Sam well, took care of him. It's a relief because he's huge and strong and it means he's better protected.

Sam's timbre is comforting, Dean likes to listen to Sam talk. He'd close his eyes and disregard the actual words, let the sound of Sam's voice wash over him until it turns bitchy and whiny and  _ Dean, are you listening? _

He is endlessly proud by how damn smart Sam is, how many times it saved their asses. He loves Sam's wit and sass even when he's the victim of it, love how Sam arches his brow and curls his mouth just so, a smug expression when he knows he's gotten Dean.

The list of things he loves about Sam is endless, and despite how specific and absurd they are, Dean considers them to be healthy and pure. Because while a well timed smile and a hitched breath or high enough pitched tone might get him squirmy, nothing can make him go from zero to sixty like Sam's bones.

Yes, bones. Dean never claimed to be anything but a freak.

He notices it first when Sam comes back from Stanford. He's gorgeous and tall and  _ defined _ . A big part of that definition is bones. What hits Dean first is that Sam isn't skinny, not by any means. But his prominent bones stand as a contrast to the rest of him, making him look vulnerable in a way his muscled thighs and washboard abs try to contradict. They all stand in places Dean would never get away with touching.

Hip bones he wants to fit his thumbs against as he fucks Sam senseless. Collar bones he wants to graze his teeth over, suck bruises along that tantalizing line. Kiss Sam's cheek bones, lick under them and bite over the beautiful edge of Sam's jaw. He wants to fall on his knees and worship Sam's patellae and his knobby ankles and the bone on the side of his big toe. Hold Sam's wrists down until he feels the bones grind against each other. Trace the lines of Sam's shoulder blades with tongue and teeth and lips then kiss over every vertebra he could feel. See if he can squeeze hard enough to make space for his fingers between Sam's ribs.

He wants those prominent bones to be his landmarks. Wants to fit into Sam's very structure.

It's another thing he'll never get, so he allows himself the fantasy. Nothing bad comes of thinking about it as long as he's not acting on it and Sam doesn't know.

* * *

Sam's typing on his laptop, it's hot so he's not shrouded in a million layers. Just a tee and Dean can see a part of his collar bone. Sweat slides down Sam's neck, pools in the space between his clavicles and Dean licks his lips, imagines following the drops with his tongue. He's in a mood and Sam's distracted so he allows his eyes to trail down to Sam's wrists. The skin over them stretches thin, veins under it clear lines that Dean aches to taste. Sam's knuckles, covered with scratches and lacerations from their last hunt, and he wishes to sooth the hurt with his lips.

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes snap to Sam's face. Sam looks bitchy and Dean should say something in that vicinity but he's worked himself up, dick hard in his jeans and heart beating in frenzy. So instead of making fun of Sam's whiny tone like he should, Dean's eyes drop to Sam's collar bones and then back up to Sam's eyes.

Sam's bitch face morphs into suspicion then he arches a brow; waiting. Dean gulps, feeling like a prey caught in the sight of a lion and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Dean, are you listening?"

"Quit bitching," Dean says, but it's lame and he knows it. Apparently, Sam's feeling magnanimous and he lets it go in favour of explaining the case again.

Or so Dean's thought.

* * *

The shift is so inconsequential that Dean doesn't notice at first. He rejoices in his luck at having more chances of catching Sam's hip bones when Sam gets into the habit of walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel low enough for Dean to see the start of Sam's pubic hair. Sam doesn't drop it like he does in Dean's dreams, rather he shimmies his underwear up with one hand while fixing the towel in place with the other, and he takes so long getting into a t-shirt and even longer putting jeans on.

Dean steals glances and files the images for later times, when he's got quality time with his hands or when he's balls deep in a woman he'll never remember the name of the next morning.

He keeps getting more though and that's when he starts to suspect something is up. Because he's never that lucky.

Sam takes to wearing only t-shirts when they're in the motel, sprawls himself on the bed with his hands over his head, t-shirt riding up and revealing tanned skin and tantalizing hip bones. Sam also buys a fucking leather bracelet, fitting it around his wrist, and Dean spends his day dreaming about the taste of Sam's skin under the leather.

Sam absentmindedly massages his collar bones with the tips of his fingers as he talks about something that Dean's not ever going to catch because his brain is being fried and he can't move his eyes away. That's when it clicks. Sam is  _ deliberate _ . 

He caught on to Dean's sick desire and he's...what? Experimenting? tormenting Dean until he confirms Sam's suspicions so he can finally have an excuse to leave him?

Dean grits his teeth and forces his eyes to Sam's face. He counts his breaths until the rush of blood disappears and he can hear Sam's words again. Nothing he can do about his hard on, but he's not going to think about that.

It gets worse as they move into hotter days, and Sam gets especially menacing and keeps his shirt off. Dean tries with all he is to not be entranced by the shift of Sam's shoulder blades under his skin and fails, and he spends the day hard and refuses to jerk off because he's a masochist and this is the least he deserves for perving on his little brother. 

Sam's newfound tic of brushing his knuckles against his jaw when he thinks causes Dean's blood to boil and he wants to bite Sam's fingers so hard in retaliation but he fucking can't.

It all comes down to one truth, Dean is going to break. Sam is onto him and he's applying just the right pressure, his fingers pressing into the places where Dean's armor is weak, twisting and pulling until the cracks turn into wide fissures and it all crumbles down.

Sam places his mouth against his wrist in a supposed "thinking pose" that he's never ever assumed before and Dean can't take it anymore.

"Okay, Sam. You win."

Sam's head whips to face him. He stares wide-eyed for a few seconds then he tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing in a question. "I win what, exactly?"

Dean can't do this, he's out of energy and patience, he's already snapped and he just  _ can't _ .

"Cut the crap, Sam. You've been torturing me for weeks, man. I'm saying you win. I have a freaky fetish for your bones."

Sam lets out a sharp breath. "You want me," he whispers, his shock clear. It's a fact of the universe. Sky is blue, the earth circles the sun. Dean wants Sam. It's not a question, but Dean still answers.

"I do."

"And it's a thing, not temporary or heat of the moment, or..."

"Yes, Sam. It's a fucking  _ thing _ , okay? I'm all fucked up over you and have been for ages and I tried to make it go away, god I did try, Sammy, and I'm so sorry--"

Dean doesn't get to finish, he gets a lapful of little brother and before he can take his next breath Sam's guiding Dean's hands and settling them over his hips. Dean's breathless, eyes glued to his fingers against Sam's hips. Big hands frame his face and lift it up and Sam crushes their lips together and moans, loud and aching, like he's been dying to get a taste.

Dean's still out of the loop, it's all he can do not to pass out and Sam is a force of nature that reshapes the very earth it touches. Dean feels powerless and small in front of his heat and passion. Sam whimpers and pulls back, hair of space between them.

"Kiss me, Dean. Please, kiss me."

That does it. Dean breaks out of his stupor, slides his hands so they're on Sam's thighs and grips. He stands and spins, drops Sam on his back and climbs after him. Sam doesn't hesitate, spreads his legs and wraps them around Dean's waist and Dean fits their mouths together and kisses him until they both choke.

Sam's tugging at his shirt and Dean is so on board with naked. Breaking the kiss is almost impossible, Sam lips follows him and they kiss again and again. He exercises self control he doesn't know he has and distances himself from Sam, sitting back on his haunches and yanking his shirt over his head. Sam wiggles out of his t-shirt, gorgeous skin shiny with sweat makes Dean's mouth water, his hands turn clumsy as he places them over Sam's waist and slides up and around. The sound that leaves him is half a sob, his heart rattles, because he does fit. His fingers exactly the right size to slot between the ridges of Sam's ribs. Sam seems to get it, his eyes glaze over and he curls his fingers in the amulet cord and pulls down until they're kissinging again.

Sam unbuckles Dean's belt, tries to reach into Dean's boxers but Dean grabs his wrist.

"If you touch me now, I'm going to blow, and this is so not ending before I mark every prominent bone in your body and then hold you down and fuck you so hard you'll never be rid of the feeling."

Sam smirks, he crosses his ankles behind the small of Dean's back and yanks him close, Dean loses his balance and catches himself on his forearms. His nose almost touches Sam’s.

"Promises, promises," he says, grin so bright it has dimples digging into his cheeks and Dean can't resist licking into them.

He takes his time, gets Sam naked and follows on his promise. He finally traces Sam's collar bones with his teeth, bites and sucks kisses and bruises on them. He threads his fingers through Sam's and brings the wrist with the bracelet near his mouth, gets that sting of leather mixed with the salt of Sam's skin and a delicious moan out of Sam.

"Lube's in my duffel," Sam pants, drags him down into another filthy kiss. Dean lines their hard dicks together, hisses at the feel of them even from behind the cotton of his boxers.

"Can't move away, Sammy."

Sam huffs, licks his palm then reaches inside Dean's underwear and pulls his dick out. He wraps his giant hand around both of them and Dean stares, their dicks slippery with pre-come and spit, hard and red and they look similar. Almost the same size and shape of head and it messes with him.

He moans, eyes falling close without his consent and he attaches his mouth to Sam's and thrusts into his fist. They get too breathless to kiss, but they stay close, pant into each other's mouths. Sam's slurring out cuss words and Dean's name, and beautiful high pitched sounds and broken moans.

"Yeah, Sammy. Come on, let it go."

Sam whines and jerks them faster, squeezing his eyes shut and bucking up, Dean sneaks a hand down, intertwines their fingers and helps Sam get them there. Sam gasps, shudders then comes. The warmth and slippery feel of it takes Dean under and every muscle in his body locks up as his orgasm rushes over him.

Dean closes his eyes and lies down, head over Sam's chest. Sam wraps him up in arms and legs and Dean sighs.

He can stay here forever.

"You really called me  _ Sammy _ as you had your hand on my dick," Sam snickers. Dean turns his head and bites over Sam's pectorals. 

"Ouch," Sam complains, but doesn't try to move him away.

"And I'll call you  _ Sammy _ as I have my dick in you."

Sam hums.

"Can't wait."

-End. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think. I'm [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come say hi!


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